


Beat the Clock

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: Merry Month of Masterbation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early one morning, Jim can't understand why Blair is refusing his orders to get up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beat the Clock

May 6, 1997. An answer to the "Merry Month of Masturbation" challenge. 

(Standard, all-purpose disclaimer) All pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of "The Sentinel." No copyright infringement is intended. All new characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author. 

Rated R for m/m content. 

> __  
> PROLOGUE:  
>  To honor this fine month of May  
> We'll all watch as Jim and Blair play --  
> With themselves, since you ask.  
> It's no big, hard task,  
> So let's all get a little risque'.  
> 

## Beat the Clock

by Katrina Bowen  


"Hey!" Jim pounded on Blair's bedroom door and tried to peek through the curtain Blair had put over the glass. Damn, when the hell had the kid turned modest on him? "You up yet, Chief?" He opened the door and stuck his head around the door frame. "Come on, let's get this show on the road. Get *up* already, would you?" 

Blair jumped. He stayed on his stomach, but raised his head enough to look in Jim's general direction. "Oh, yeah. I'm up, Jim. No problem there." 

"Good. Because you're the one who insisted on this little camping trip, remember?" 

"Yeah. Right." Blair pressed his head into the pillow. Through it he mumbled, "Give me ten minutes, Jim, okay? That's all. Ten minutes maximum, and I'll be --" Making a vague, one-handed gesture, Blair continued, "-- I'll be with you in a few minutes, no problem." 

Jim sighed and turned to go. "You better be, Sandburg. If you're not dressed and ready to go in ten minutes, I'll make you get up." 

"Oh, you've already done that, Jim," Blair muttered into his pillow. 

"What?" Jim looked back over his shoulder. 

"Ummmm.... Shouldn't you go put the rest of camping gear in the truck? We only did the big stuff last night, remember?" Blair peeked up hopefully. He closed his eyes in relief as he saw the door swing shut. 

Blair heard Jim's voice fade as the other man retreated into the living room. "Actually, I think *we* ought to be loading the truck. Just make sure you're up in ten minutes, okay?" 

**Oh, Jim, if I were any more *up*, I'd have drilled a hole right through this mattress,** Blair thought mournfully. Well, *this* was a hell of a situation. He'd somehow managed to wake up before his alarm went off, he'd gotten up to relieve himself and then gone back to bed for a little.... Well. At the time it had seemed like a golden opportunity to relieve a little tension. Somehow, for reasons he wasn't in the mood to explore, nothing had happened. Sam, Margaret, that new clerk in the bookstore with the thoroughly amazing ass -- no matter who he thought of, nothing. 

Then Jim's alarm went off and Blair heard footsteps above his head. He imagined Jim Ellison (El Hetero Muy Grande, Blair ruthlessly reminded himself) stretching his long, strong arms... pecs rippling, cords in that neck standing out in sharp relief, rubbing one big hand against the stubble on his chin, heading downstairs into the bathroom, stripping off his boxers... and *sproing*! Out of nowhere, Mr. Happy decided to wake up after all. 

Blair frantically tried to find some logical reason why just a stray, idle, *entirely* innocent thought about Jim would give him an erection that refused to go away. He'd already spent a good fifteen minutes trying to convince his cock to either go down, go off, or hell, even just go *away*. Which was why Jim was stuck loading the truck by himself. Served him right, the pig. He had some nerve, walking around, flaunting himself like that.... 

Blair stayed where he was, tense and silent, until he heard the front door slam. Springing out of bed, he grabbed his clothes off the chair and dashed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. 

Peeling off his damp sweatpants, Blair glared down at his erection. **Oh, sure. Just stand there, why don't you?** Blair reached into the shower and turned the cold water on high; taking a deep breath, he plunged under the frigid stream. Just as quickly, he plastered himself against the wall of the shower, well out of the cold spray. On second thought, maybe a self-induced cardiac arrest *wasn't* the most efficient way to deal with the situation. Turning the dial just high enough to adjust the water to a point slightly above tepid, Blair looked down in resignation. Yep. Seemed that Ellison-induced erections could withstand even the iciest arctic blasts. **Well, when all else fails, go for the traditional approach...** 

"Sandburg!" 

Blair spun around in surprise, barely managing to grab hold of the towel rack to catch himself before his feet skidded on the slick tile beneath him. "WHAT?" 

"Six minutes, Chief," Jim said mildly from outside the bathroom door. "Get moving, or I'll pull you out of that shower myself." 

"....Yeah. Right. With you in six minutes, Jim." 

"Five minutes now." Blair rolled his eyes and slumped against the shower wall as he heard Jim's laughter. **Okay. Five minutes. That's workable, no pressure.** 

Trying to steady his breathing, Blair reached down and lightly circled the head of his cock with just the fingertips of one hand, barely brushing the tip. He lifted his other hand to his chest and tugged gently on the nipple ring. Unbidden, the image of Jim standing in the very same spot, not twenty minutes earlier, came into Blair's mind. With a single, harsh gasp, he came explosively; one small remaining analytical corner of his mind noticed the way his semen ran down the cold white tile as the water washed all traces of his orgasm away. 

**Good. That's taken care of. It was just a fluke, Sandburg, doesn't mean anything, it's over now, you don't have to think about it anymore....** Blair ducked his head quickly under the shower head. He shampooed and rinsed his hair -- and even managed a quick shave -- in what he suspected might be a record time. In fact, he was sure that his five minutes were up, so where was Jim? **Probably out whittling a battering ram.** 

Blair turned off the water and was reaching for a towel just as Jim knocked on the bathroom door. "Time's up, Chief. Come on out." 

"In a minute, Jim." Blair started drying himself off. 

Jim jiggled the doorknob, and Blair froze. "I said get out of there *now*, Sandburg. You know what the traffic is going to be like...." 

"Geez, man, what do you want me to do? Get into the truck naked and dripping wet?" 

There was silence in the hallway, and Blair sagged against the sink. **Did those words just come out of my mouth? Nah. Must have been someone else in here.**=7F 

When Jim finally spoke, he sounded a little strange. "Well, there might be some truckers who'd enjoy that, but I don't want to think about what it'd do to my seats. I'll be waiting downstairs." Blair didn't dare move until he heard the front door close. 

*Close one, Blair.** He pulled his clothes on haphazardly and raked his fingers through his hair. Somehow, he didn't think he had time to use the hair dryer. 

Tossing his wet towel over the shower door to dry, Blair left the bathroom. As he made his way out of the loft, he gave himself a pep talk. **Okay, Blair, you can do this. You've gone camping with Jim lots of times, nothing ever happened between the two of you, nothing is *going* to happen this time, so you have no reason to think about this anymore. Letting it go, letting it go....** 

Blair stepped out onto the sidewalk. Jim was leaning against the side of the truck, arms folded, eyes hidden by sunglasses, faded jeans tight across his.... 

**Oh god.** Blair closed his eyes. **Something unsexy. Think of something not-Jim, Sandburg... okay, there. Got it. Joel Taggart in a gold lame thong. Good. Just hold onto that image, kid, you can make it through this weekend...** Straightening his shoulders and stiffening his spine, Blair went out to climb into the truck. It was going to be a long weekend....   
  


* * *

  


> __  
> EPILOGUE:  
>  I hear a chorus: "Hey! That ain't fair!  
> This challenge *does* deal with a pair!"  
> Right. Next we'll see Jim  
> Have a frivolous whim,  
> Out there in the forest with Blair.  
> 

* * *

Email the author with comments.  
Use your browsers back button to return to your story selections or submit a [new](http://b-b-t.mit.edu/SXF/cgi-bin/senslash/storysearch.cgi) query.


End file.
